I Made Wine From The Lilac Tree
by Hokum
Summary: John is going out tonight. Because Sherlock said so.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing apart from the plot.

Pairing: John/Sherlock established relationship

Sumary: John is going out tonight. Because Sherlock said so.

**I Made Wine From The Lilac Tree**

Doctor John Watson heaved a sigh of relief as he finally trudged up the seventeen steps of his flat in Baker Street. Three ten hour shifts back to back in one week had left him completely and utterly shattered. The idea of a long, hot, soak in a bath was practically the only thing that was giving him the energy to haul himself up the stairs. Fishing around in his coat pocket he dug his keys out and wondered briefly if Sherlock was home. A nice night in stretched out on the sofa was what he was after, a bit of telly and some nice warm food would just about do the trick. John sincerely doubted he could gather together the energy to cook so it would be take away for them again. Not that he cared at this point what he ate as long as it was hot. He had barely got his key in the lock, however, when it was flung open to reveal his partner in crime, lover and sometimes supreme idiot; Sherlock Holmes.

"John! Where on earth have you been? Come on, don't just stand there like a disaffected double glazing salesman, get inside!" Sherlock said as he bundled John through the door.

John's brain still felt like he had left it at the surgery so he was having a hard time keeping up as Sherlock flapped about him like an over grown exotic bird and seemed to be chattering away at over ninety miles an hour.

"Sherlock-" John started to ask what on earth was going on until he found his coat being pulled off him whilst it was still zipped up. He staggered slightly as Sherlock's nimble fingers found the zip and manhandled it off of him. John was really lost now. Normally his coat was being forced on him, not off, as Sherlock dragged him all over London tracking down wayward criminals.

"Sherlock just wait a moment! What on earth is going on?" John said as he batted Sherlock's hands away from the hem of his jumper. He was really getting quite cross now but the Detectives seemingly manic energy showed no signs of stopping soon.

"Come on hurry up, I said you'd meet them at eight" said Sherlock, ignoring John's questioning as he seized the Doctors wrist and dragged him towards the bedroom. Out? Who said anything about going out? And with who? John tripped and stumbled his way up the small flight of stairs after Sherlock, who seemed to glide up them as if he were on wheels. Still in complete bewilderment as to what on earth was actually going on, John staggered slightly as he found himself in the middle of their bedroom.

"Sherlock, I don't want…" John started to say but was cut off once again as Sherlock started pulling his jumper up over his head. In normal circumstances John wouldn't have minded at all if Sherlock started pulling his clothes off, but those types of scenarios usually ended with both of them naked in bed together. Still struggling with his jumper, he grabbed hold of Sherlock's wrists and held him firmly in place.

"Sherlock I don't want to go out tonight!" he said exasperatedly. "What I want is to have a bath, order a takeaway, watch a crap film on telly, have a shag and go to bed".

Sherlock had clearly tuned out all of Johns objections, even the shagging bit, as he pulled himself free from John's grip.

"John really do stop being tiresome. You work with these people, surely you can forgo one evening of crap telly and spend an evening with them". He said with an air of someone talking to an extremely dim-witted child.

"What do you mean "these people"? Sherlock what have you done?" John asked sternly as Sherlock began pulling out a pair of Johns clean socks from the chest of draws.

"I simply rang around all your colleagues at the practice and invited them to drinks with you tonight. Honestly John, you're acting like I've killed someone." Sherlock said airily as he shoved a pair of clean underwear and some socks at John.

"You did what? Sherlock I don't want to go out with them! It's bad enough I have to see them at work. How did you get their numbers anyway?_ I_ don't even have their numbers!" John said as he thrust the socks and pants back at Sherlock. Talk about the rug being pulled from under your feet.

"Oh it wasn't that difficult really. You'd be surprised how easy it is to hack into the phone companies these days. Why are you giving these back to me? You're supposed to be changing." Sherlock said breezily as he held the socks and pants out to John again.

John stared at him in disbelief. Sometimes he wondered if this was all some elaborate dream; no normal person would hack a phone company for their boyfriends work colleagues phone numbers would they? Sherlock was staring at him with his head tilted slightly to the side, his eyebrows drawn in together in a small frown.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Are the pants and socks the wrong colour or something?" He was beginning to look a bit dejected that he wasn't getting the reaction he was hoping for. Although what suitable reaction was there to finding out your partner has engaged in illegal activities just to secure you a night out?

John sighed wearily. Sometimes when dealing with Sherlock it was just easier to go with the flow. Plus he couldn't stand that look on Sherlock's face when he thought he had done something wrong by John.

"No it's fine. Just give me a minute to get myself together; it's been a long day." John said gently as he stretched out his hand and took the pants and socks from Sherlock.

"So you're not cross with me then? You had that disappointed look on your face before." Sherlock said as he eyed John warily.

"No Sherlock I'm not cross with you. Like I said before I'm just a bit tired. What time am I supposed to be meeting them?"

"Good. I didn't think you would be. I know you miss not going to the pub as often as you used too. I said that you would meet them at the 'Miles End Pub' at eight." Sherlock beamed as he seized John's jumper and yanked it clean over his head.

John merely goggled at him as he tried to remain upright. Why was it that whenever John tried to persuade Sherlock into interacting with people other than dead bodies and criminals it was always met with a resounding no? Sighing heavily he dutifully began getting changed out of his work clothes as Sherlock crossed over to their bed and sat crossed legged in the middle of it.

"Put on a nice shirt too, I don't want you going round looking like you've wandered in off the streets after getting dressed in the dark." Sherlock said chirpily.

John rolled his eyes and tried not to be too offended by Sherlock's slightly insulting remark.

"I thought you liked my jumpers" he said in a hurt voice as he began rummaging through the large oak wardrobe that stood in the corner of the room.

"Oh John stop fishing for compliments." Sherlock said but then added in a much softer tone "You know I like your jumpers, but this is about you making friends, not trying to get me to sleep with you".

John grinned to himself as he recalled a couple of instances where his jumpers had come in very handy in distracting Sherlock.

"What about you? Shouldn't you be getting changed too?" John asked staring at Sherlock who was currently decked out in his pyjama bottoms and one of John's ratty old army t-shirt.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and gave John a very dismissive look.

"Don't be stupid John. How are you going to make friends if you spend the entire evening talking to me?"

"What? You're not coming with me?" John said as pulled out another shirt from his wardrobe.

Sherlock sighed heavily and crossed over to where John was standing and helped him undo his shirt buttons.

"I'm not good at this whole friends business John, I never have and I never will. I have people that I don't mind too much like Lestrade, when he's not being completely stupid and annoying, but as I'm sure your very well aware I'm not exactly a people person".

"So what am I then?" whispered John as he wrapped his arm around Sherlock's waist and pulled him close to him.

Sherlock smiled at him, a proper smile that only John ever saw, "You, my dear Doctor, are everything I will ever need all rolled into one. I would consider anyone else who chose to call themselves my friend wholly inadequate when compared to you."

John grinned back at him and pulled him into a firm kiss. Sherlock really could very kind and considerate when he wanted to be.

"You know we could still have a nice quite night in" John murmured as he slid his hands down the Detectives lean back and squeezed his arse. Sherlock however wriggled himself out of Johns grip and stepped back towards the wardrobe.

"No John you are going out." He said firmly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

John held up his hands in mock defeat "All right, I'll go. I know it must be important to you when you start jabbering away at me like a monkey."

"Good. I'll wait for you downstairs once you've had a shower." Sherlock said promptly as he grabbed his dressing gown from behind the door.

"Wait a minute, who says I'm having a shower?" John said as he threw up his hands in exasperation. Sometimes he had a sneaking suspicion that Sherlock really did have the ability to read minds.

Sherlock looked at him pointedly and raised his eyebrows. Holding up his arm John caught a whiff of himself; it wasn't exactly pleasant.

"Right. Well… I'll just…Go in the shower then." John said sheepishly as he made his way past Sherlock and into the bathroom.

"Oh and don't wear that brown shirt either, it makes you look like a vagrant." Sherlock called as he wandered off back downstairs.

Looking down at the brown shirt clutched in his hand John let out a loud, exasperated groan.

John took his time in the shower. The hot water hitting his skin felt glorious and he wasn't about to get out anytime soon. Half of him still couldn't believe that he was actually going through with this whole bizarre evening. The other half of him, the half that ignored the dead things in the fridge and apologised to strangers for Sherlock's rude behaviour, thought it was actually quite sweet that Sherlock would go to so much trouble just so he would have a good time. They had only been romantically involved for about five months now and John knew that the Detective was still getting his head around the idea of being in a relationship. It probably wouldn't have occurred to Sherlock that he could have simply asked John if he felt like going out and then invite a few people from work, not the entire practise. Nope, that would be what a normal person would have done. He used a liberal amount of Sherlock's posh and ridiculously expensive shampoo by way of compensation.

After shutting the shower off and towelling himself dry, John set about getting himself changed into a pair of dark blue jeans and a light red coloured dress shirt. Hopefully this choice of shirt wouldn't make him look like a tramp in Sherlock's eyes, which was a bit rich coming from someone who spent half their life lounging about in pyjamas. John thought that it was best not to dwell on the fact that Sherlock had chosen to ignore the fact that A) John didn't want to go out with people who he barely knew B) forming friendships wasn't some kind of scientific formula that you had to stick to and C) John would much rather be sat at home watching the telly. After fixing his hair in the bathroom mirror and trying to muster up some sort of enthusiasm for this evening's event, John deposited his dirty towel in the laundry basket and headed back downstairs to the living room.

Sherlock was spread out over the sofa with his dressing gown draped over him like a cape and what looked like a chemistry book propped open against his knees. The telly was humming quietly in the background and John saw wistfully that Total Wipeout was just starting.

"Right I'm off now then, there's some Shepherds Pie left over from last night in the fridge you can heat yourself up later." John said as he slipped his coat on. He prayed Sherlock would remember to eat some dinner; he didn't want to spend the night worrying. Sherlock looked up from his book and his eyes roamed over John; it was rather like being x rayed. He didn't offer a comment on anything so John presumed he was suitably attired for an evening spent in the pub. Leaning down John pressed a light kiss against Sherlock's lips and rubbed his fingers across the back of his neck.

"Don't set anything on fire whilst I'm out." John said as he kissed Sherlock softly again.

"That only happed once! Must you bring it up every time you leave me on my own?" Sherlock said crossly as John grinned down at him.

"All right, just don't come crying to me when you singe your eyebrows off again." John said as he picked his keys and wallet up from the kitchen table and put them in his pocket.

Sherlock merely huffed and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "wasn't crying" under his breath. They had both agreed that Sherlock did indeed look rather odd without eyebrows and that losing them again should be something that was generally avoided.

"I'll see you later then. Don't know what time I'll be back seeing as I only knew I supposed to be going out an hour ago." John said as he finished tying his shoe laces.

A grunt from the sofa told him that Sherlock had clearly not taken kindly to his eyebrow comment and was now sulking behind his book. John rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself; sometimes Sherlock's behaviour was on a par with a teenage girl. On his way towards the door he lent down and ruffled the massive expanse of curls on top of Sherlock's head.

"Good bye dearest."

Undeterred at being met with another sulky silence, John planted a kiss onto the Detectives head and made his way out of the flat.

"Bye." called Sherlock literally just two seconds before John had closed the front door behind him. John smiled. Clearly Sherlock was getting better at this whole relationship malarkey then he thought. Stepping onto the curb he hailed a cab and was whisked off into the night.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you all enjoyed reading this, chapter two should be up within the next few days. Any spellinggramar errors pointed out, albeit nicely, would be greatly appreciated.**

**If anyone is interested the title comes from lyrics to the song Lilac Wine by the late, great Jeff Buckley. Its a very beautiful song so check it out if you can.**

**Peace and Love from Hokum**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It took John exactly ten minutes since his arrival at the Pub to realise how dreadfully dull his practice colleagues were and another ten before he started trying to figure out a way he could leave without being noticed. He kept finding himself in conversations where he couldn't actually be bothered to say anything. John must have added a "yeah" or an "mmmm" as his sole contribution to the entire evening so far. In all honesty there was only so many times you could feign enthusiasm when Angela, one of the locum nurses, told you another excruciatingly dull story about her cat, ''Mr. Tibbs". Bill Brampton, the practice owner, had clearly consumed one pint too many and was now bright red in the face and going into far too much detail then John would have liked about Mrs Portman's 'downstairs problems'. By far the most bizarre part of the whole evening was that no one had even questioned the fact that someone they had never met had rung them up out of the blue and asked them out for drinks on behalf of someone else. Doctors clearly didn't get out much.

"Pint John?" Bill asked as he heaved his portly frame up from the table.

"Yes" John said quickly as he drained his first pint. It was clearly going to take a lot of alcohol to make this evening more interesting.

As Bill stumbled off towards the bar and as everyone else resumed their mundane conversations about whose child went to what school, why the rubbish bins where never collected on time and what they had had for dinner that evening, John lapsed into silence. He really wished Sherlock had come out with him. It was so rare that they didn't do something together that John felt a bit out of sorts without the detective by his side. Looking at his colleagues and their normal, tedious lives John saw what his life could have been if he had never met Sherlock. He suddenly felt very cold as the thought of never knowing Sherlock passed through him. Just as Angela launched into another dramatic tale of Mr. Tibbs Vs. The Dog Next Door, John pulled his phone out from his pocket and sent of a quick text to Sherlock whilst hiding his phone under the table. His colleagues may be a bit on the boring side but he didn't want them to think he was being rude.

To: SH

_At pub, bit dull. What are you doing?_

From: JW

To: JW

_Bath._

From: SH

John frowned slightly as he read Sherlock's message. The detective had an unnerving habit of seeing how long he could hold his breath under water whenever he had a bath.

To: SH

_Be careful! I don't want to come home to find you've drowned yourself in the name of science doing one of your daft experiments!_

From: JW

To: JW

_John; I am not some clumsy toddler that needs to be under surveillance twenty four hours a day whilst you abandon me to go binge drinking at the pub. _

From: SH

"Binge drinking at the pub"? Cleary Sherlock was having one of his selective memory moments and had deleted the fact that it was he who organised John's night of boozing. Oh wait; there was more as John's phone beeped again;

To: JW

_Also my experiments are not "daft". I did not see you complaining when I investigated which types of flavoured lubricants would make you reach orgasm faster whilst giving you oral sex._

From: SH

John felt his face flush and his trousers suddenly grow very tight as he remembered the outcome of that particular experiment.

To: SH

_All right you're experiments aren't always daft. Please accept my humble apologies._

From: JW

John thought for a few minutes before quickly typing out another text.

To: SH

_Fancy a shag later?_

From: JW

He had barely pressed send when Sherlock's response buzzed through.

To: JW

_Yes._

From: SH

John grinned to himself and thought that at least tonight wouldn't be a total waste of his time. A nice evening out, well nice might be pushing it a bit but at least he had had a pint or two, and a lovely bit of sex to finish the evening off. Sherlock was probably out of the bath now, dragging a towel over his taught, naked body or perhaps he was still laying naked in the bath water and waiting for John to come home…

"So where's Seamus tonight then? I thought this whole thing was his idea?" Bill asked loudly as he staggered back from the bat holding a tray of drinks.

John, whose mind had been filled with quite frankly pornographic thoughts about a certain detective, didn't quite register that Bill had just asked him a question.

"Sorry, what was that Bill?" John asked as he felt his face flush. He knew none of them could tell what he been thinking of but he still felt embarrassed none the less.

"I asked where Sergei was. The wife came over all funny when he called. Went on and on about what a nice sounding voice he had for ages. I couldn't pay attention to the football," Bill grumped as he handed John over his pint. It took John a few minutes to work out who on earth Sergei was before he realised Bill must mean Sherlock.

"Oh he had to work this evening. He's not really much of a drinker anyway," John said. Not much of a drinker was putting it lightly as John had found out when they had celebrated the ending of a particularly arduous case with a bottle of wine. Sherlock had consumed a mere three glasses of the stuff before John had discovered that his new flatmate was a complete lightweight and then been thrown up on.

"So what does your lovely man do then John? We never hear that much about him from you," Lorna asked suddenly; her bespectacled eyes boring into him over the rim of her gin and tonic.

"He was awfully polite on the telephone," Nancy chipped in as she also turned to look at him.

John frowned slightly. Where was this polite behaviour when Sherlock spoke to all the other people he came into contact with, like the gasman who spent an hour being insulted by the Detective when he came to check the meter.

"Ohh…Ermm… Well." Bloody hell; they were all staring at him now.

"Come on now don't be shy. We don't care that you're shagging a fella," boomed Bill as he downed the remnants of his sixth pint.

"Right, thanks." John said. Perhaps if he told them the only reason why they were here was because their telephones had been hacked they wouldn't be so enthusiastic.

"Oh come on now don't worry, we've had a Gay working for us before haven't we Margaret, remember? All though he used to come in dressed as woman come to think of it, do you Sheldon go in for any of that?" Bill asked curiously as he slopped half his pint over the table.

John almost chocked on his drink. "No!" He spluttered. The image of himself and Sherlock walking down the road hand in hand dressed in ball gowns suddenly sprang into his mind.

"Well if you change your mind we won't judge you, we're very open down at the practice. Tell your Shelby that too," Bill said sagely.

"Right. Well...Thanks, I'll bear that in mind," John mumbled as he felt his face burn bright red. He was severely missing the conversations about Mr. Tibb's toilet habits and his pal Tuffty from over the road.

"Come on then John, you never told us what your boyfriend does. Is he a doctor as well?" Lorna asked again.

John chuckled despite himself. Mad scientist maybe but definitely not a doctor.

"No he's not in the medical profession. Sherlock is a Consulting Detective; he sort of works for the police force and takes private cases from the members of the public." John thought it best to be as vague as possible; the idea of his private life of crime fighting mixing with his work at the practise did not appeal to him.

"Wow! That sounds so exciting!" Angela said in a whisper, as if John had just told her that he was going out with Brad Pitt but was just far too polite to mention it.

"Come on then, details! What does he look like?" Lorna asked eagerly, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Errr…." John said. Clearly John's love life was the most exciting thing they had heard about all year.

"I've seen him. He picked you up once last month didn't he?" Tall, skinny bloke with big hair?" Slurred Bill, his eyes crossing slightly as he tried to focus on Johns face.

Picked up was pushing it a bit, more like Sherlock swept in, pushed past an elderly lady with an ear infection and demanded that John leave with him right then and there because he needed him on a case.

"Yeah that was him. He plays the violin as well," John said although he neglected to tell them that most of the violin playing took place at two in the morning.

"Ohhh Tall, dark and handsome! He sounds divine!" trilled Nancy in a manner that suggested she was Cilia Black and John was a contestant on Blind Date.

"Yeah well, he is a bit," John answered truthfully as he downed his third pint; he was starting to feel a bit smug now. Clearly they were all extremely jealous of John's super-hot boyfriend. Christ, how many drinks had he had?

"So how did you meet then? Tell us all the details!" Lorna said as she pulled her chair closer to the table.

"Well, we were just flatmates first, then gradually we became friends and it sort of evolved from there really." John said. He suspected that this wasn't the dramatic tale of love and devotion that they were hoping for but that was all they were going to get.

"Wait a minute; I thought you were shagging that ginger bird, Susan something? You know the one from that practice you were at before you came to us." Bill said in rare moment of clarity.

John shifted uncomfortably. He didn't really feel much like getting into the whole Sarah situation right now.

"Well _Sarah_ and I used to date but it wasn't anything serious. That was way before I realised I had feelings for Sherlock." The women around the table all let out a chorus of 'Awes' and nudged each other like school girls whilst John tried not to laugh at the look of disdain that would be on Sherlock's face if he were here.

"Oh. So you like birds and blokes then?" Bill asked as he swayed slightly in his seat.

"Ohhh…errr…" John trailed off. His vocabulary had clearly taken the night off.

"How does that work then? Does Shamrock like birds as well then?" Bill asked as everyone turned to look at him again, their eyes wide with curiosity.

"No, Shamr- I mean _Sherlock,_ isn't into girls." John thought it was best to keep things simple; explaining the fact that Sherlock generally had no interest in people that weren't John would probably make their eyes pop out of their heads.

John wasn't used to so much intense scrutiny surrounding his relationship. When he and Sherlock had first gotten together no one had really said anything. He suspected that Lestrade and the rest of the yarders had thought that they had been shagging all along. They had received a few snotty comments and looks from Anderson and Donovan but that was to be expected. It wasn't like they were all over each other at crime scenes either. Well, at least when no one was looking they weren't.

"So Angela how's the cat then?" John asked turning abruptly to the nurse on his right and then they were off again as Angela told them the fascinating story of when Mr. Tibbs got stuck up a tree and had to be rescued by the fire brigade. Feeling relieved John settled himself into the background of the group again; everyone else was seemingly more interested in prescribing the right course of action to help Mr. Tibbs recover from his tree trauma. Privately John thought that perhaps Mr. Tibbs had retreated up the tree to have a few minutes peace from his over bearing owner. Conversation eventually moved onto the only thing doctors seemed to talk about when they got together; ailments. By the time Sybil, the greying, tweed wearing receptionist, had given them a very thorough account of the mole cluster on her back John decided it was time for another drink, or four, and he headed up to the bar. He had only just sat himself down on a barstool when he heard his name being shouted from across the other side of the bar.

"JOHN!"

John turned around to find Lestrade walking a little unsteadily around the pub tables in the direction of the bar.

"God, am I glad to see you! Pint is it?" John asked as Lestrade dumped himself down on the stool next to John.

"Yeah, cheers mate."

"Can I get another pint as well please?" John asked the bartender who nodded and quickly filled up another beer glass.

"The Wife not with you tonight then?"

John chuckled at the detective's remark, "Don't let Sherlock hear you call him that."

Lestrade grinned and took a sip from his pint, "Seriously though you've not had a row have you? I don't think Anderson will cope if he has to put up with an even moodier then normal Sherlock at a crime scene".

John laughed loudly, "No nothing like that. Sherlock's got it into his head that I need to find myself some relatively normal people to associate with from time to time."

"Ahh I see. Is that why you're hanging out with that bunch of boring bastards over there?" Lestrade nodded as he indicated to the table that contained John's colleagues.

"Pretty much," said John."Its far less time consuming to just agree with him then have to spend the entire evening listening to him explain the scientific reasoning behind why I need more friends".

"You should have dragged him along with you as a social experiment, see how long he can cope with normal people before he snaps." Lestrade said as John roared with laughter.

"I think we both know how that would go down. It's probably best he's not here seeing as I actually have to work with those people."

Suddenly there was a mad scramble from the table in the corner. Coats, hats and scarf's were suddenly being pulled on accompanied by various muttering of 'I hope the babysitters ok, we've never left Georgie this long before' and 'Golly is that the time? The wife will kill me if I'm out late again.' The next thing John knew he was being swept up in myriad of hugs and back slaps as one by one his merry band of doctors all trooped out of the pub.

"John. We're off now. See you Monday; we'll have to do this again soon. Next time you'll have to bring that lovely chappie of yours too!" Angela trilled as she almost knocked Lestrade off his barstool in her haste to give John a hug.

"See you later John. Bring Sherwood with you next time." Bill slurred as he almost crashed into a table as he made his way out of the door after Lorna.

"Oh...Umm…Bye then," John said vaguely as Angela finally released him and swept of out of the door. He looked over at the clock on the wall beside the bar; it was only 10:30. John suddenly became very thankful for all those night he was dragged out of bed to chase criminals all over London.

"Wonderful chappie?" Christ, Sherlock didn't drug them to come out with you did he?" Lestrade snorted.

"I'd like to say no but to be honest with you I wouldn't put anything past Sherlock." John chuckled.

"Maybe I should come round and do another drugs bust." Lestrade mused thoughtfully.

"Please don't, it took me ages to clean up last time. And I had to put up with Sherlock sulking for a week because one of his experiments got damaged."

"Oh yeah, he gave one of my officers a right earful when she knocked over that test tube. I probably couldn't find anyone willing to come round anyway. All the younger officers think he's the boogie monster or something."

"You're not here on your own are you?" questioned John as he took a huge gulp from his pint.

"Nah, Clarky was here but I think he was on the early shift so he's left and Anderson and Donovan are over there," said Lestrade as he pointed out the other two officers who were currently deep in conversation. "I wouldn't bother going to say hello though. Their halfway through their weekly "I hate Sherlock" bitching session".

John's eyes narrowed slightly as he saw Anderson and Donavon suddenly let out cackles of derisive laughter. It might not bother Sherlock that they called him names or made cruel remarks but John was much less lenient about such behaviour.

"No perhaps not," said John quietly.

"So he's alright being left on his own then? He's not going to blow the microwave up and set fire to the kitchen like last time?" Lestrade asked with a hint of worry to his voice. John visibly shuddered at the memory of coming home to a burnt out kitchen, a whole team of firemen in his living room and Sherlock in a complete grump because his experiment had been ruined in the inferno. He'd only gone out to pick up a takeaway.

"No nothing like that, well hopefully nothing like that. He was reading when I left, he seems quite tired at the moment. Not that he would ever admit that though."

He had half suspected that Sherlock had just wanted to have a snooze without John noticing. Why Sherlock wanted to keep up this pretence that he didn't need sleep or food was beyond John but he was willing to go with it for now. Sherlock was a very odd person indeed.

Lestrade shifted guiltily from side to side "Sorry that's my fault, I know I take advantage sometimes…"

John cut him off with a wave of his hand and a laugh "It's fine, believe me it's not like you or I could stop him getting involved in a case anyway".

"True. I must say it's a weight of my mind knowing he's got you looking after him now. Plus I have someone to gang up against him with when he's in the wrong."

"Speak of the Devil." John said as his phone suddenly went off in his pocket.

"Seems like the Wife is keeping tabs on you tonight! Better answer that before he gets suspicious."

"Oh sod off," John laughed as he pulled his phone and opened Sherlock's message.

To: JW

_As we shall be having sex later I thought I would remind you that sustained alcohol abuse greatly impacts on sexual libido and can impact on maintaining an erection .Perhaps that's something you should look in to._

From: SH

John almost spat his drink all over himself; to say Sherlock had a blunt way of putting things was putting it mildly.

To: SH

_Bloody hell I'm in public Sherlock! Plus I've only had a few pints; I'm not turning into an alcoholic!_

From: JW

"Something up? He's not flooded the bathroom again has he?" Lestrade asked.

"No, he's just accusing me of turning into an alcoholic." John replied; his eyes fixed on his phone as Sherlock's response came through.

To: JW

_Fine. I was merely trying to look out for your well-being, next time I won't bother._

From: SH

John could sense the beginnings of an argument or a massive sulk brewing so he decided to cut it off quickly. He was rather looking forward to a nice shag when he got in and he didn't want to ruin it by putting Sherlock in a bad mood.

To: SH

_Well thank you for being concerned but I think I'll be fine. I'm heading home soon… Looking forward to seeing you._

From: JW

John didn't get a reply until half an hour later when he and Lestrade where having a rant about last week's football match. They both agreed that the ref had been completely out of order in handing out the red cards and that in the end a draw wasn't too bad with all things considered. Sherlock had no interest in football so John was glad to have someone to talk to about; Mrs Hudson tried her best but it just wasn't the same.

To: JW

_John, I've become rather aroused at the thought of us having sex later. Would you like me to masturbate now or wait until you get home?_

From: SH

John felt his face flush with both arousal and embarrassment; he sincerely hoped that Lestrade couldn't see the erection that was beginning to make itself very noticeable.

To: SH

_Can you wait? I want to take care of you myself._

From: JW

John licked his lips slightly as he waited for Sherlock's response. Thankfully Lestrade has getting another round in and didn't seem to notice John's slightly flustered expression.

To: JW

_I'll wait but make sure you get home soon._

From: SH

Lestrade took in John's flushed expression and then glanced to the phone in his hand.

"Jesus, he's not sending you dirty messages is he?" He asked.

"Well… nothing graphic, just some plans for later this evening," John mumbled as he blushed furiously. Thank god Sherlock hadn't sent him a picture message like he had when John was waiting in line at the supermarket. He'd spent half an hour being lectured by the checkout staff after he dropped a box of eggs and a carton of milk all over the floor.

"I always thought…you know… he didn't like being touched," Lestrade asked inquisitively.

"Well he certainly doesn't mind being touched by me," said John smugly as the mental image of Sherlock all naked and spread out on their bed waiting for him sprang up into his mind.

"Oh God you're not talking about the Freaks sex life are you? I don't think my stomach could stand the thought of those two going at it" Anderson suddenly drawled behind them. God he sounded pissed.

"Watch it Anderson, you'll get yourself a black eye if you're not careful," Lestrade said warningly as he and John both turned in their seats to look at the advancing officer.

"What's the matter Anderson? Not getting any yourself now your wife's left you and Sally's not as easy as she looks?" snapped John irritably. Sherlock might not care about being labelled a freak but it really got on Johns nerves. Anderson looked furious but all he could do was open and shut his mouth like a goldfish before snatching up his pint and stumbling back over to Sally.

John breathed heavily through his nose and turned round to find Lestrade grinning at him.

"Defending the Wife's honour, nice" he chuckled and took a large swig of his pint.

"Sorry that was a bit rude; the bit about his wife leaving him wasn't it?" John muttered as he looked over to see Anderson sending him a death glare from the corner of the room.

"He'll get over it and it's not like he didn't deserve it. I hope Sherlock appreciates you getting into verbal fisticuffs on his behalf."

"I'm sure he'll make up for it later… not like that," John said quickly catching the look on Lestrade's face. Although if he was honest with himself sex was usually Sherlock's main weapon in making things up to John, not that John was complaining.

They continued chatting comfortably for about half an hour about a whole multitude of things before Lestrade announced he needed to "piss like a racehorse" and headed off to use the toilet. John was just beginning to think about calling it a night when he heard an all too familiar voice muttering behind him.

"Sorry didn't catch that Anderson. Maybe could repeat it for me so I can hear," John said coldly as he found himself face to face with the forensic officer.

"You heard me soldier boy. Sherlock's damaged goods and you know it," Anderson slurred as he clutched onto the edge of the bar for support.

John felt his face flush with anger and a tight knot begin to form in his stomach. He had always respected Anderson, hell he'd even defended him against some of Sherlock's verbal tirades but now he was starting to wish he hadn't bothered.

"You know what Anderson? Why don't you just keep your opinions to yourself and let me enjoy my drink" said John tersely.

Anderson took another gulp of his pint and glared at John. Clearly John had struck a nerve with the comment about his wife.

"Oh look at the common Doctor getting all high and mighty just because he's shagging Lord Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street. Not that I would imagine that's a very enjoyable experience. Did he have to drug your tea just so he could get you into bed? I bet narcotics are the only way a freak show like him is ever going to get a shag".

John held his breath and counted to ten before he responded as calmly as he could, "Look Anderson why don't you just go home? You've clearly had too much to drink."

Anderson laughed loudly and oafishly as he downed the rest of his beer, "Oh touched a nerve have I? I bet you were the first person that nutcase ever had to spread his legs for without charging for it, hell it's not like he even denied it when I tried it on with him."

John's eyes snapped up from his own pint glass as he glared across at Anderson.

"What do you mean when you tried it on with him?"

"When Lestrade dragged him out of the gutter to work on a case with us for the first time. Knocked me back, the fucking weirdo. I knew it was because he was some freak show virgin. He should have been glad that someone like me would take an interest in him." Anderson said as he leered across at John.

John clutched the glass in his hand hard until his knuckles went white. He would very much have liked to have smashed it over Andersons head but he didn't think even Lestrade would buy him having a momentary lapse in sanity.

"What…" John tried to steady his breathing before he continued, "What did you do to him?"

"Like I told you; nothing. You'd think no one had ever tried it on with him before."

As per usual Anderson had only got half the facts of the situation correct. John was in fact the first person Sherlock had slept with for over ten years; he hadn't wanted to press Sherlock about the details which led him to avoid any kind of intimacy for such a long period of time but he was under the impression that someone had hurt the detective very badly.

"Oh he didn't tell you did he? Well he's good at keeping secrets isn't he?" Anderson said as he caught the look on John's face.

"Oh just piss off Anderson." John said angrily as Anderson just laughed nastily and made his way back over to Sally.

John concentrated hard on the row of spirits behind the bar to try and avoid picturing Anderson's hands all over Sherlock. Vodka. Whisky. Malibu. Jagermeister. It seemed to work as he felt the anger fade a bit from his body, although he still had a strong desire to go home and give Sherlock a thorough scrubbing in the bath. It wasn't that he was jealous of Sherlock being with another person, it was just the thought of Anderson pawing all over him made his stomach turn.

It was only a few minutes after Anderson stumbled his way across to the bar that Lestrade took up his vacant seat.

"What was Anderson saying to you then? I hope he wasn't being too much of a git".

"It's nothing, well nothing more than usual cracks about Sherlock," John replied as he glanced down at his watch. It was coming up to twelve thirty and to be honest John was ready to call it a night.

"Ahh well Sherlock does at least give as good as he gets," said Lestrade as he drained the last of his pint.

"I know it's just different hearing that kind of stuff when you…" John trailed off feeling embarrassed. He didn't really like talking about the inner workings of his relationship with Sherlock, not because he was ashamed or anything but because he liked the fact that what happened between them stayed between them.

"When you care about someone?" Lestrade finished off for him and John nodded in response.

"Did you know about Anderson and Sherlock?" John said abruptly after a few moments of silence.

Lestrades eyebrows retreated so far towards his hairline that they were in danger of disappearing.

"How did you know about that?" He asked.

"Anderson told me just now. He said he tried it on with Sherlock after you brought him in to work on a case."

Lestrade sighed heavily as he set his pint down and turned to face the doctor.

"Look John, believe me nothing happened between them. I was there; Anderson put the moves on Sherlock and got rejected. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Right. Thanks." John said. He was feeling a bit more reassured now, although he would still quite gladly punched Anderson in his stupid face.

"I'm glad he has you now," Lestrade said thoughtfully, "He's a lot more manageable on cases now for starters and I feel a lot more reassured that he's got someone encouraging him to look after himself more. He wasn't really very good at that a few years back".

John nodded but didn't say anything. He knew that Lestrade was referring to Sherlock's previous drug addiction and probably a whole multitude of other things besides but he was glad Lestrade hadn't elaborated. If and when Sherlock was ready he would tell John the reason why he had turned to narcotics.

"Well I'm beat, do you fancy sharing a cab?" Lestrade asked as he yawned hugely and began pulling his coat on. The pub, which had been heaving when John had first arrived, had gradually thinned out to just a handful of hardened drinkers.

"Yeah sure, I should be getting home really," John said as he too began to put his coat on.

Lestrade grinned smugly at him, "Ohh yeah? Does the Wife have you on curfew then?"

John laughed loudly, "No, I just want to have my flat still standing when I get in" as they headed out on to the street to flag down a cab.

"I always knew you two would end up together. Sherlock might be a right weirdo but he's good lad underneath it." Lestrade said, his eyes drooping slightly as they clambered into the cab.

"Cheers Lestrade."

They rode along in silence for a bit with Lestrade occasionally mumbling that he shouldn't have drank so much and clutching his stomach when they went over a speed bump. John was pondering if and when he should ask Sherlock about the Anderson situation. Sherlock wasn't one for talking about the past but John didn't feel like he would be satisfied until he heard Sherlock's side if things. Suddenly the cab was pulling up on the entrance to Lestrades street.

"See you later John, say hi to the Wife for me." Lestrade slurred as he threw a five pound note in John's general direction, tumbled out of the cab and wavered unsteadily around the corner. Out of the corner of his eye John thought he saw a sleek black car pull up in front of Lestrade's house but shook himself mentally. Ever since he was kidnapped by Sherlock's over protective and over bearing older brother any sign of a posh car with dark windows had sent a bit of a chill through him.

"Where to now mate?" The cabbie asked as John dragged his brain back to the present.

"221b Baker Street please."

"Right oh." Said the cabbie as he pulled away from the curb and headed off in the direction of Baker Street.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you all enjoyed chapter two, I'll admit it's not turned out as I'd liked but I'm happy enough with it. Third and final chapter up within the next week. xxx<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

After a few false starts John finally managed to get his key in the door as he stumbled over the threshold of 221b. The hallway was almost pitch black but even in his drunken state John was able to navigate his way up the seventeen steps to the flat he shared with Sherlock. He made it almost to the top without incident until he tripped on the last few steps and staggered into the door frame.

"Get a hold off yourself Watson," he giggled, "You're a bloody military man!"

The front door seemed to be making much more noise than it usually did as he pushed it open.

"Shhhhhh Mr. Door, you'll wake up Detective Boyfriend. Or Shamrock. Detective Boyfriend Shirley Shamrock!" He snorted as he shut the door behind him.

The living room was lit only by the eerie green glow coming from the muted television in the corner. Obviously it would have taken too much effort for Sherlock to turn the television off before he went to bed. After towing off his shoes and hanging his coat up behind the door John wavered into the kitchen and started scavenging for some food. Since John had discovered the wonders of online shopping the fridge of 221B was always fully stocked. This came in handy when John was trying to wrestle some food down a certain consulting detective's throat. However on this occasion all he could find in the fridge was a block of cheese, a bag of mouldy carrots and a dubious looking container which John really didn't want to know the contents of right at this moment in time. Muttering intermittently to himself, John began opening the cupboards to try and track down some food. It wasn't until he had been digging around in the plate cupboard for a good five minutes that he spied Sherlock's left over plate of Shepherd's Pie that had been helpfully dumped on the kitchen counter, presumably for the kitchen elves to clean away. There was a good wodge of it left so John ate it cold straight form the plate, thinking smugly that he wouldn't have to listen to Sherlock lecture him about 'cross contamination of germ particles' or some other scientific nonsense which John didn't care about because he was a bit pissed and hungry. After he finished John put the plate into the sink and burped loudly. The niggling feeling in the bottom of his stomach that had started since the cab ride home with Lestrade was back.

Anderson.

John knew he was the type of person that was prone to worrying unnecessarily, especially when it came to Sherlock, but he just couldn't shake this feeling of unease. He knew better than to just barge up to Sherlock and ask him if Anderson had felt him up at a crime scene or something. Sherlock was as impenetrable as Fort Knox when it came to anything about his private life. He was going to have to play this one very carefully if he wanted to get any form of answer. He wasn't sure if Sherlock was even still awake, it was well past one in the morning, but he didn't feel like he could go to sleep just yet.

Crossing into the darkened sitting room and flung himself down on the sofa and immediately tried to wriggle himself around into a more comfortable position. For some reason it felt oddly lumpy and more uncomfortable than normal. Perhaps it was time for them to get a new one; lord knows how long Mrs Hudson had had this one. He sat there in silence with only the loud ticking of the clock for company as he thought about how to approach the Anderson topic with Sherlock. It was hard enough getting personal information out of Sherlock at the best of times let alone when he was asking if the detective had been felt up by a foppish oaf masquerading as a forensic officer. The silence around him was almost deafening until…

"I don't wish for you to take offence John but you are rather heavy. Might I suggest that you go and sit in the armchair instead of on top of me?"

"JESUS BLOODY CHRIST!" John screamed as he leapt up from the sofa like a cat that had been electrocuted.

Sherlock, who had presumably been sleeping on the sofa in the dark, disentangled himself from underneath the sofa throw and turned on the sitting room lamp.

"SHERLOCK? What the bloody hell have I told you about creeping about like that?" John gasped as he clutched his hand to his chest.

"I wasn't creeping about; I was sleeping until you came and sat on me. This is what happens when you binge brink John; you lose all sense of perception," Sherlock grumped as John had an embolism at the other end of the sofa.

"I should get you a bell or something, so I know when you're about to creep up on me like that," John gasped as he collapsed back down on the sofa.

"I thought we just established I wasn't creeping; I was sleeping. Do try and pay attention John," Sherlock said as he clambered over John and sat straight in his lap, his legs either side of John's thighs and his head resting on Johns shoulder.

"Hello to you too," John said as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist.

"You smell like Lestrade and beer," Sherlock said.

"Thanks," John deadpanned.

Sherlock's responsive huff caused the hairs on John's neck to prickle as his warm breath hit John's skin. They lay there in silence for a while and John mulled over weather this was the right time to broach the Anderson issue. It was guaranteed to be a mood wrecker though, Sherlock seemed to be in a peaceful frame of mind and John really didn't want to spoil that.

"Did you make friends?" Sherlock asked suddenly and John couldn't help but smile that such a childlike question would come from a genius like Sherlock.

"Sort of I suppose. I mean they're nice people and everything but I did find the evening rather lacking in the excitement area," John said as he moved his hand down and started to rub his thumb along Sherlock's cheek and jawline, "I would much rather have spent the evening with you anyway. What did you get up to in the end?"

"Bath," murmured Sherlock as he shifted his weight around in Johns lap and causing a not unwanted amount of friction on the doctor's groin. Wrapping his arms tighter around Sherlock's waist, John pulled the detective forward so there wasn't an inch of space in-between them. The sparse material of Sherlock's pyjamas meant that he could feel the pleasant outline of Sherlock's cock pressed up against his stomach. A pair of thin arms wrapped around his neck as Sherlock rubbed his groin up against John.

"John," he murmured softly against John's neck.

John slid his hands down Sherlock's back and was rewarded with two nice firm handfuls of the detectives arse. He caressed both cheeks thoroughly and then slid he hands down the outside of Sherlock's thighs. Sherlock gave another sigh as John started to plant a row of firm kisses along his jawline. John took it as a good sign when a dark mop of hair suddenly flopped forward onto his shoulder and he continued to kiss his way down the detective's long, luscious neck.

"Mmmm I've waited all night to do this to you," John purred as he ran his hands along the insides of Sherlock's thighs. Sherlock nuzzled his head along the side of John's neck as John gave his cock a firm squeeze. Sherlock's penis wasn't hard yet but his body started to go limp when John began to palm him through his pyjama bottoms. John smirked smugly to himself. His own cock was straining painfully against his trousers, begging for it to be released.

"Shall we move into the bedroom?" John purred as he cradled Sherlock's balls.

Silence.

"Sherlock?"

John didn't think a little bit of cock palming could render Sherlock speechless that quickly so he gave him a little prod in the ribs.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock's head lolled sideways onto Johns shoulder and he emitted a loud snore. John felt his cock deflate by about three inches as he looked down to see Sherlock sleeping soundly on his shoulder. An evening of magnificent sex was officially cancelled then.

John didn't quite know what to do for the best. If he moved then he would wake Sherlock up, who despite all protests to the contrary was clearly in need of some rest, but if he stayed put he faced an awkward night's sleep on the sofa. Sherlock burrowed his head into the side of John's neck and he started making a soft, sleepy, snuffley noise that just about barged all the lust out of John's body. He removed one of his arms from around Sherlock's waist and began to run his fingers through the mop of curls that was currently tickling his neck. Sometimes he wondered how Sherlock had lasted so long without someone to look after him, not just making sure he ate and slept but giving him the basic forms of human contact that he seemed to crave. It hadn't taken John very long to work out that the rude, arrogant and cold exterior that Sherlock had was just a mask to hide his own insecurities. He was prepared to bet a good sum of money that Sherlock had probably been a bullies dream when he was a kid.

Sherlock was a nice warm weight in his lap but John's feet where starting to get a bit chilly. The sofa throw was too far away on the floor for him to reach his current position, as was the sitting room light which didn't leave him with many options for a good night's sleep. John slid his arm back around Sherlock's waist; maybe he could somehow roll them both to the side so he could stretch his legs out on the sofa? Bracing himself he gripped Sherlock tightly and leaned forward and tried to twist himself to the left. He was almost midway into his roll when Sherlock jolted awake and blinked up at him.

"What on earth are you doing John?"

"Well I was moving us into a more comfortable sleeping position until you ruined it by waking up," John huffed as he released Sherlock and resumed his previous position.

"I wasn't asleep," Sherlock mumbled indignantly as he sat himself back up in Johns lap.

"You could have fooled me with all that snoring you were doing."

"Wasn't snoring," Sherlock said as he started fumbling with the waistband of John's jeans.

"Errrmmm, what are you doing now?" asked John as he stopped Sherlock's hand from going any further south.

"You wanted to have sex," Sherlock said as he looked up at John with a slightly puzzled expression.

"Well yes I did," John said truthfully, "But it's late and you're tired".

"But you're hard." Sherlock stated mater-of-factly and brushed his palm over the bulge in at the front of John's jeans for emphasis. John bit down on his bottom lip to stop a moan escaping from him.

"I know but I can just take care of that myself later. Let's go up to bed," John said as he tried to shift himself so that Sherlock wouldn't be in contact with his groin any more.

"It's fine. I'll just lay here and you can do whatever you want," Sherlock yawned as wriggled closer into Johns lap.

"No Sherlock, we are not going to be doing that," John said firmly.

"It's fine honestly. Just try and keep the noise down," Sherlock mumbled from somewhere around Johns chest region.

"Either we do this with you awake and compliant or not at all," John said firmly.

Sherlock sat himself back up in Johns lap and gave himself a little shake and looked at John expectantly.

"I could take care of it for you," he said softly as he once again moved his hand down and rubbed his hand over John's crotch. This time John couldn't help himself as a soft groan escaped from his lips as Sherlock's palm pressed down harder on his clothed erection.

"Sherlock, do you want to have sex right now? Because I don't think you do." John said sternly as he removed Sherlock's hand from his pants and held him firmly by the wrists.

"Yes," Sherlock said somewhat unconvincingly as he had to stifle a yawn halfway through his response.

"Yeah, the yawn really convinced me that you're rearing to go," John deadpanned.

Sherlock merely rolled his eyes and tried to wrestle one of his hands free from John's grip.

"Sherlock I'm fine," John said as he tried to ignore the by now very obvious tenting in his trousers.

With both his hands out of use Sherlock decided to try a more devious tactic to getting what he wanted and started to rock his hips against John's crotch.

"Sherlock, don't," John murmured half-heartedly as Sherlock began to rock harder against him.

Sherlock smiled rather devilishly as John let go of his wrists and began to grope the detectives arse. Quick as a flash he had John's jeans unbuckled, unzipped and halfway down his thighs. John's imminent arousal was even more prominent due to the thin cotton of his boxer shorts.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows appreciatively as he trailed his fingers along the insides of John's thighs.

"Sherlock," John grunted as Sherlock's fingers began to skim the waistband of his boxer shorts.

Sherlock smirked like a cat as John's hard and heavy penis sprang out in an almost obscene manor as Sherlock finally freed him from his underwear. A gust of cold air brushed over his groin causing him to sigh loudly. Sherlock's long fingers encircled Johns straining erection and began to stroke him gently.

"Mmmmm… harder Sherlock," John whispered.

Sherlock pumped Johns cock firmly as he moved up and placed a line of butterfly kisses along John's jawline. John instinctively tilted his head back instantly so the other man would have easier access to the hollow of his neck.

"Did you miss me today?"

John let out a moan as Sherlock tightened the grip on his cock, every so often he would swipe the pad of his thumb over the head causing John to shudder with pleasure.

"Did you think about me doing this to you?"

".Yes," John gasped.

"How did you imagine it? Tell me. Did I use my hands or my mouth?"

"Hands first, then your mouth," John grunted as he tried to stop his hips from bucking up.

Sherlock suddenly let go of John's cock causing John to break out of his ravine and stare up at the detective. He flashed John a quick smirk before he slid down so he was kneeling in between Johns legs; his hand still firmly stroking Johns cock.

John bit back a moan as Sherlock's tongue darted towards the head of his penis and licked of the beads of pre-cum that had already started to gather. He maneuverer his other hand underneath so he could fondle John's balls at the same time. The sense of expectation was palatable as the detective dragged his tongue, inch by inch, from the base of John's member to the very tip. With his foreskin pulled back the sensitive glands of his penis were fully exposed and Sherlock took great delight in wetting his tongue against them. Sherlock continued to tease him by rolling his balls over in his hand whilst trailing kisses along the shaft of John's penis.

"Do you want me to use my mouth now?" Sherlock asked with mock innocence as John nodded frantically. John moaned loudly and closed his eyes in bliss as Sherlock's hot, wet mouth finally engulfed his cock. Sherlock's head bobbed up and down, his wayward curls brushing softly against Johns thighs and sending waves of sensation along his spine.

"Mmmmm…God that feels good Sherlock. Right there…just like that," John babbled and then let out another loud groan as Sherlock swirled the tip of his tongue across the head of his penis.

"Ohhh…Sherlock just a bit faster, I'm so close…. Ohhh I'm going to cum soon," John said as tried in vain to stop his hips thrusting up into Sherlock's mouth. The last thing he wanted was to choke his partner before he had a chance to finish. Sherlock reached out a long pale hand and took hold of John's hand, caressing it for a while before placing it on top of his head. John's fingers instantly fisted into the deep thicket of curls as Sherlock's head bobbed up and down in earnest.

"Ugggh…Sherlock…. I'm close…If you don't want to swa-, "the rest of John's sentence died on his lips and was replaced by a loud groan as Sherlock took him deeper into the back of his throat. John could feel a divine pleasure moving along his spine and spreading all the way down to the tips of his toes. If Sherlock just….

"SHERLOCK!" John called out his lover's name as he spilled his considerable load down the back of Sherlock's throat. The dark haired man held onto him until his cock was completely milked dry and let it fall from his mouth with a soft pop. John almost came all over again as he saw Sherlock sit back on his heels, lick off small bead of cum that had escaped from his mouth and fallen onto his bottom lip.

"Do I ever tell you how amazing you are at giving head?" John rasped as he slumped back onto the sofa.

"Constantly," Sherlock purred as he rested his head against John's bare thigh.

"Good. Now come up here and give me a kiss," John said as he tugged at Sherlock's shoulder, indicating that he should climb back up in John's lap. Sherlock hummed happily as he repositioned himself, leaned in and pressed his mouth against Johns. With a heady rush, Johns tongue skated over Sherlock's and he could taste himself in the detective's mouth. Resting one hand on the back of the detectives head, John moved his hands towards Sherlock's pyjama bottoms but the Sherlock grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together.

"Don't you want me to-, "John started but Sherlock just shook his head and snuggled into Johns lap. John held onto him for a few moments until his groin began to become uncomfortably sticky. He somehow managed to wriggle his underwear back on with Sherlock still sitting comfortably in his lap.

"Bed?"

Sherlock nodded against him.

John prodded Sherlock gently in the ribs and the lanky detective rose to his feet and held out his hand to his doctor. Hand in hand they made their way upstairs to bed, occasionally brushing up against each other and giggling as they climbed up the stairs. As they reached the bedroom John grabbed a pair of pyjama bottoms and an old tee-shirt that was slung over the back of a chair and headed towards the bathroom whilst Sherlock flopped down dramatically onto their large double bed. After brushing his teeth and giving his face a quick wash he set aside his slightly sticky underwear and shirt, pulled on his sleeping attire and switched off the light.

Making his way back into the bedroom he found Sherlock asleep and spread out on top of the covers in starfish mode, his mouth hanging open slightly. John chuckled to himself as he went to put his clothes away and turned off the main bedroom light.

"Sherlock," he said gently as he shook the sleeping man's shoulder, "Come on love, wakey wakey."

Sherlock mumbled something unintelligible but still didn't move.

"Sherlock I'm not sleeping on the floor!"

"Tired," Sherlock grumbled but he managed to open his eyes and sat up so John could pull the covers out from underneath him and slide in next to him.

"I was just resting my eyes," he mumbled against the fabric of Johns t-shirt.

"Course you were," John said as he tried not to laugh.

Sherlock yawned hugely as John grabbed the thick blanket from the end of the bed and pulled it over the top of them. It was deliciously warm and cosy but John suddenly felt very wide awake. The alcohol in his system had long since burnt off and the uneasy feeling in his stomach that had been with him since he had left the pub was making itself known again. Sherlock meanwhile had begun arranging bits of John around him until he found a comfortable sleeping position. He wriggled around a bit until his leg was hitched over John's hip and his left arm wrapped around his waist. John responded by wrapping his arm around the detective's slim waist and pulled him closer still.

"Comfy?"

"Yes."

"Good," John said as he kissed the side of Sherlock's head.

"You still smell like Lestrade," Sherlock said as he laid his head down on John's chest.

"Ohh. Sorry. I think I ended up spending more time with him than with the guys from work," John said. The mention of Lestrade's name immediately conjured up an image a drunken Anderson leering at him in the pub.

"I don't like it," came the muffled response from somewhere near his chest region.

"Well you're just going to have to put up with it until I can be arsed to get out of bed to have a shower tomorrow," John said irritably.

Sherlock's suddenly lifted his head up and looked directly at John, "You're annoyed. Why?"

"I'm not annoyed," John snapped.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"Do we really have to go through the rigmarole of me explaining how you're body has completely tensed up, you're speech pattern has changed since we got into bed and that your fingers are digging into me because you're holding onto me too tight?"

John released his fingers, which admittedly had been digging into Sherlock's waist rather forcefully. He may as well get this over with.

"Anderson…. He's never touched you or anything has he?"

"Touch me? Touch me where?" Sherlock asked.

"You know… Somewhere where I would touch you," John said pointedly. Sometimes Sherlock's lack of sexual understanding really worried John.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed suddenly, "Are you asking me if I've slept with Anderson?"

"NO! No… Just…Well… he said, but I didn't think…" John babbled until Sherlock cut in.

"John, it would save us both sometime if you used complete sentences."

"It's just…. Now don't get cross with me but when I was at the pub Anderson was there and he said… well he said that he had put the moves on you and that you rejected him. I know half the stuff that comes out of his mouth is rubbish but he was just so smug about the whole thing," John groused as his hands started to curl into fists.

"Oh, I for a moment there I thought he done something interesting for once" Sherlock mused as John scowled.

"This is serious Sherlock! What did he do to you?"

"He made advances and I rejected them. End of story."

"And that's all? He didn't try and feel you up or anything did he?"

"Well if he did I've probably deleted it."

"Can't you try and remember?"

"Lestrade was there at the time I'm sure he can tell you," Sherlock said. He was getting bored with this line of questioning but it was seemingly important to John so he kept silent.

"Please Sherlock, for me? Just try and remember," John said desperately.

"Fine. Just shut up so I can think."

Sherlock screwed his face up as if he was trying to remember something unpleasant. In reality he was probably on silent for no more than a minute but it felt like an eternity to John. Finally he started speaking again.

"I remember being in the back of Lestrade's police car, Anderson attempted to engage in some form of sexual activity with me, I rebuffed his advances and then Lestrade came over and sent him home. Entirely uneventful."

"That's it? That's all you can remember?"

"Well at the time I was rather incapaticited owing to the large quantity of cocaine I had taken. Honestly John I don't see why you're making such a fuss," Sherlock snapped as he rolled away from John and pulled the duvet over his head.

"I'm not making a fuss! I'm only asking if some jumped up berk from the forensic squad felt you up in the back of a police car!" John said as he tried to unearth Sherlock's head from beneath the thick material.

"John you already stated that you had already heard the story from Lestrade so I don't see why you need to bother me with it," Sherlock snapped as he attempted to pull the blankets out of Johns grip.

"Because it happened to you, not Lestrade. I want you to tell me what happened," John said exasperatedly as Sherlock's head disappeared completely underneath the quilts.

"Sherlock I'm not having a conversation with you whilst you're hiding under a blanket," John said firmly.

"Mught foruml nodotmmm," Sherlock mumbled from beneath the thick blanket covering his head.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that," John said.

"Mudhhyo sphybg qwoiytcfr," Sherlock repeated.

"Fine," John sighed and he gripped one edge of the blanket and burrowed underneath it.

Even in the surrounding darkness he could see Sherlock's eyebrows drawn into a frown and his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. John tried to put his hand on Sherlock's forearm but the detective flinched and pulled away from him. Clearly this was going to take some damage control on John's behalf.

"Sherlock? Look I'm sorry ok? Maybe I should have approached this whole situation differently," John said tenderly as he gently laid his hand over the top of Sherlock's.

"What are you sorry for John? Sorry for accusing me of sleeping with half of Scotland Yard or do you just find yourself pitying me because you think I've been a victim of some sort of sexual abuse?"

"When did I say you had slept with the whole of Scotland Yard?" This conversation really wasn't going the way John had hoped.

"Oh and I wasn't hiding either. I was just out your line of vision," Sherlock pouted.

"Ok fine I'll agree you weren't hiding but that still doesn't give me an explanation to why Anderson said he tried it on with you," John said.

"You just don't get it do you John?" Sherlock snapped suddenly.

"Get what? Come on Sherlock just talk to me," John said softly.

"I…Just…. I just don't understand about this whole sex thing. It's all so confusing," Sherlock muttered and John knew that it must have been very difficult for him to admit to not understanding something.

"Well that's understandable. This is all fairly new to you, it's ok to be confused by it," John said as he gently moved his arm around and rubbed the back of Sherlock's neck. Sherlock gave a little huff but he relaxed back against Johns fingers.

"I don't want to be with other people. I have no interest in touching or being touched by anyone other than you. The way you talked about Anderson and I makes me feel decidedly queasy," Sherlock said.

John was starting to feel awful, he should have been more tactful when talking about things of such an intimate nature with Sherlock. John suddenly thought how strange it must have been for Sherlock to go from having no sexual experience what so ever to suddenly being a very intimate relationship.

"I'm sorry love, maybe I should have gone about this thing a bit better" John said as he rubbed his face tiredly.

They sat there in silence for a while, John gently massaging the back of the detective's head, until Sherlock spoke again.

"Do you mind that I've never been with anyone else? That my entire sexual history and experience comprises solely of you?" Sherlock said abruptly but he still wouldn't look up at John.

"Sherlock it wouldn't matter to me if you had been with one person or a thousand people. All I care about is that you're happy. You are happy aren't you? With us I mean," John asked, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Yes," Sherlock said suddenly, and the glint in his eyes made Johns heart stop trying to beat its way out of his chest.

"Sherlock this was never about you having slept with someone else. It was about me thinking that someone had hurt you and I just couldn't stand the thought of someone doing something like that to you. I don't want to be patronising but you understand, don't you? That nobody should be touching you if you don't want them too," John stressed, he was going to drive that point home with a sledgehammer if he had too.

"Yes," Sherlock snapped.

"I just want to make sure! I know sex isn't exactly your area, or wasn't before we got involved, so If there's anything you want to tell me…," John trailed off.

"John, I can assure you that I have never been molested or 'felt up' as you so eloquently put it by Anderson or any other member of the Scotland Yard Police Force!" Sherlock had rolled over completely now, his bony spin resting against Johns forearm.

"Sherlock come here," John pleaded as Sherlock scooted further away down the other end of the bed.

"No, you've spoilt my mood now with all your ridiculous questions," Sherlock sulked as he twisted away from John.

John leant forward, seized one of the detective's ankles and pulled him back towards him.

"Please," he whispered as he stuck out his bottom lip and pouted.

"Fine. But you're still an idiot," Sherlock grumbled as he rolled back around and laid himself back beside John.

"Just so you know if Anderson or anyone tries touching you, I'll rip their fucking arms off," John growled as he suddenly pounced and pulled Sherlock into a passionate kiss.

"Good to know," Sherlock gasped as he came up for air.

"And you're ok with… the sex so far," Sherlock mumbled as he twisted his head against Johns neck to avoid looking at him.

If it had been anybody else lying in bed next to him John would have laughed out loud.

"Trust me Sherlock; I've never had better sex than I have with you. Plus you're a very quick learner," John said as he nudged Sherlock in the ribs. The corners of Sherlock's mouth twitched a little.

"I do give good head," he mused.

"That you do," John laughed as he pulled Sherlock into a hug.

They lay in silence for a long while, with John rubbing soothing circles up and down Sherlock's back.

John had almost drifted off to sleep when Sherlock's voice suddenly called out to him from the darkness.

"John?"

"Mmmm"

"John?"

"What?"

"I think Lestrade and Mycroft are engaging in sexual intercourse."

John opened his eyes very quickly; suddenly he felt wide awake. He was used to Sherlock's weird and wonderful thought pattern by now but the detective's last sentence left him completely adrift.

"What on earth would make you think that?"

"Just small things, trivial to most but the devil is in the detail John," Sherlock said matter-of-factly.

John decided it was best just continue to lay there in a state of bewilderment before he responded.

"Wait a minute; have Mycroft and Lestrade ever even met?"

"Mycroft makes it his main mission in life to infiltrate himself into the lives of anyone that I've ever come into contact with; so yes they have met. Also there was a hospital incident a few years ago… "

Hospital incident? They would most certainly be going back to that later John thought.

"That still doesn't explain why you think they're doing it."

"Doing it?"

"You know; shagging"

Sherlock face scrunched up in mild horror at John's words.

"Really John. You're not back in the schoolyard," Sherlock grumped.

"I need more data to be certain but I know how people work John. And I know Mycroft. There's something going on, of that I am sure," Sherlock said.

"Sherlock I think you're reading far too much into this."

"Right well I'm sure you know best. Good night then, Sherlock said in way that specifically implied that he thought John was being an idiot, "Don't forget that we're having sex in the morning," Sherlock said as he promptly rolled over and nestled back down against John.

Within a few minutes he began making a small snuffley noise which signalled that he had fallen back to sleep again. John, meanwhile, was left very wide awake with the mental image of Lestrade and Mycroft in some very compromising positions burned into the back of his eyeballs. Suddenly the memory of a sleek black car idling at the end of Lestrade's street as he got out of the cab popped into his mind.

"Thanks a bunch Sherlock," He muttered as he glared at the top of the sleeping man's head.


End file.
